


dans la villa

by sacredneverland



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, M/M, even smut somewhere, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredneverland/pseuds/sacredneverland
Summary: “I didn’t know you drew.”“I didn’t know you played.”“I guess we’ve both kept secrets.”***Lucas Lallemant is 17 years old when he moves in with his grand-mère and cousin, Manon, to live in her at her plaza in a small village in France. There, he allows he meets a stranger one night that seems to not like parties as much as he doesn’t, but only sometimes.Heavily inspired by Call Me By Your Name
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	dans la villa

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this in the summer, stopped for a bit, before picking it back up. hopefully you guys will like it, and more parts will be released soon.
> 
> thank you so much for Ro (@sandalwoodhusbands on tumblr and @chelouple28 on ao3) for helping me edit this chapter. you literally saved me Ro ahhh thank you so much!
> 
> also, here’s a specialized playlist that i made for this story. it gets me in the dans la villa mood and hopefully does the same for you: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Kly97B7K7o5XGWCJvd6TR?si=gKt_umRoQCuKSFs2g-ou_A

“ _ Mon cœur _ , can you please grab the clothes hanging from the line?”

“ _ Oui, grand-mère _ ! “

“ _ Merci, Lucas. _ ”

Throwing the book down somewhere in the vicinity his hand once laid on, Lucas pushes himself off the bed and out of his room, quickly running down the stairs so he can accomplish his task as soon as possible. Despite his fast pace, he watches his step carefully, making sure not to bump into and break any items of furniture on his way.

The flaps of Lucas’ unbuttoned shirt flies behind him as he runs into his backyard at full speed, only accelerating more when he feels his feet make contact with the blades of grass, pushing against it as he speeds up towards the clothing line. 

He feels himself surge forward, his body immediately jerking to a sudden stop when he sees a familiar head of brunette hair, bobbing up and down as it moves from left to right behind the clothesline. He can’t quite see the body yet, the figure hidden behind a big white sheet as it walks across the area, but he already knows who it is. A big sigh leaves his lungs as he lets himself lean against a tree , catching his breath after the ferocious activity he has just completed. 

" _ Grand-mère _ asked me to do it, Manon." 

"I know, but I was already here, so I started it anyways." 

Her head peeks out from behind the big, white sheet, her body still facing inwards while she talks to him, her hands moving behind the fabric diligently. Lucas places one hand on his hip when he sets his eyes on her, rolling his eyes at her before spinning around to face the house. 

He tilts his head up to look at the sun, then the sun's rays burning his eyes immediately, causes him to squint. He lowers his gaze, instead settling on watching the soft clouds floating under it.. Puffs of paint pillows, he calls them. 

They're nice, really, and he counts them as one positive thing he gets out of living here. One of many, he finally admits to himself. 

"You know, Chloe asked me where you were today." Manon's voice calls from behind the clothesline, pulling him out of his daze and, interrupting his pleasant viewing of the clouds. 

"She did?" He responds, flat and uninterested, his mind unable to procure any other response. 

"Yeah, asked if you were going to come to the plaza later tonight." 

Oh.

Of course.

"Well, I'm not."

"I was wondering the same thing. you know?"

"Manon,  _ non _ ."

"Maybe you should come."

" _ Manon _ .  _ S'il te plaît. _ "

"You haven't come in a while."

"I'm not interested." He says in a final tone, turning around to face her again, He’s met with the sight of her face when he does, the large sheet that covered her now neatly folded in her arms, making her red sundress and long, brunette hair visible. 

Lifting her eyebrows slightly, she walks over to Lucas, the sheet still tucked between her arms and torso as she calmly stops in front of him. She looks up into his eyes, eyeing him analytically, trying to decipher Lucas’ mind once again. She’s already tried, more than once. Lucas always lets her.

He watches her, completely still, and waits for her to finish her meddling. It only takes her a few seconds of analyzing before she’s satisfied, smiling up at Lucas kindly before walking past him, heading back towards the villa Lucas himself had walked out of a few minutes ago. 

“You should come someday, it would be a nice way for you to make friends.” She throws over her shoulder, hips swaying to the light breeze. “Think about it.”

He wants to roll his eyes at her, opting for a sigh when he realizes she won’t even be there to see him, slumping at the annoyance the conversation has caused him to feel. His eyes flicker to the now-empty clothes-line in between the two peach trees, eyes fixating on them for a moment before he decides to run back around towards the villa, moving quickly so he can run back into his room, hoping to avoid Manon's questions that he knows she still is fixated on. 

He dodges the muted, turquoise couch and wooden, glass bookcase and telephone stand as he runs up the stairs, quickly boltings into his room. He immediately kicks the door closed, jumping on his back as he comfortably lies down on the bed, and eyes fixated on the ceiling. He hopes the door fully shut, but even if it didn’t, he knows, his family would get the message to not come inside either way. 

He’s been doing this ever since he got to the villa. In fact, it was one of the first things his grand-mère and Manon had learned about him when they met. He just wants his privacy, and most of the time they respect that - unless it is time for dinner, or whenever they have guests; most commonly the former.

“Lucas!  _ Bébé,  _ it’s time for dinner!” 

Like now

“I’m coming _ , grand-mère! _ ” 

Pushing himself off the bed, Lucas leisurely walks out of his room in a lethargic pace, feet pressing into the wooden floorboards as he makes his way out the door and into the hallway. He stops for a moment when he catches a glimpse of the closed door at the end of the hall, the pale, turquoise, wooden door, chipped away over the course of time. He lets his eyes linger for a moment, debating on whether he should knock on the door or let it be, contemplating whether the action is worth the potential, unresponsive consequence or the plain disturbance.

Maybe, today…

Shaking his head, Lucas drops the thought, making his way down the stairs instead. There is a slight creak in the floorboards ensuing after every step, but Lucas finds it more pleasant than annoying. 

“Ahh, Lucas...And your mother?”

“ _ Non, Grand-mère, _ s he is still in her room.”

“Oh, yes, Okay..”

Silence settles over the table. It only lasts a few seconds as his grandmother knows how to handle the situation by now.

“Manon, can you take the juice out of the refrigerator, please?”

“Sure, grand-mère.”

Manon is already standing by the counter when Lucas walks to the dining-table, chopping something on a cutting board Lucas can’t see, hidden by Manon's back, but he can see her stopping as she looks over to the fridge, leaving her position to go grab the juice. Lucas gets a glimpse of what her back was hiding when she moves, smiling when his eyes fall on the chopped lying on top of the countertop; fresh ones, too. It can only mean she went to the market or Daphne’s house this morning. One or the other. Maybe both. 

“She’ll come down one day, Lulu.” 

Lucas doesn’t even register his grandmother's comment when she says it, too busy sticking his tongue out at Manon as she purposely bumps into him lightly as she brings the juice overt, returning the gesture to Lucas once the item is safely placed down on the table. He breaks out of his action immediately after, turning to look at his grandmother with a tight-lipped smile, nodding gently at her in response. 

He’s heard the same response many times, whether it be from her or Manon, and by now Lucas is tired of it, for lack of a better term. But, this is his grandmother, so he doesn’t allow his face to exhibit his botheration. 

“I know.”

Manon places the bowl of cut strawberries on the table, ending the conversation between Lucas and his grandmother, before pulling out a chair from under the table and sitting down. Lucas does the same, both of them scooting into their seats as if it were a competition, grinning at each other in a taunting way. Manon scrunching her nose at Lucas when he teasingly sticks his tongue out at her again, making their grandmother just sighs, who shakes her head fondly at her two grandchildren. 

“You both are the same age, almost adults, yet you act like children.”

“We still are children, Grand-mère,” Manon adds, cutting up a slice of the vegetable pie with a knife before placing it on her plate, giving the knife to Lucas when she finishes. Lucas does the same, grabbing a piece, putting it on his plate, and then giving the knife to his grandmère, who thanks him quietly before she takes one herself. After she grabs her serving of stewed potatoes, she looks at the both of them, smiling.

“ _ Bon appétit. _ ”

Lucas goes in like a monster, shoving a piece of the pie into his mouth only to moan around the spoon, much to the grimace of Manon, who laughs at him. 

“Wow, okay.”

“What? It’s good.” It comes out muffled, the food in his mouth canceling out his voice.

“Not denying that.” Manon agrees, calmly eating her food in response. 

Their grandmother says nothing at their little exchange, calmly consuming the food in front of her, already used to the playful bickering between her two grandchildren, watching them in amusement and contentment. It’s only after she is fully finished with her stewed potatoes and halfway done with her pie that she speaks up again.

“ _ Alors... _ So...i heard that there is a party tonight.

Manon immediately breaks into a smile, but Lucas freezes mid-bite, chewing his food slowly as it dawns on him what is about to come.

“ _ Oui, grand-mère _ .” 

“Yeah..”

“And since it’s a party, and it is the beginning of summer, why don’t you two go?”

Manon glances over at Lucas for a second, and he swears he sees a smirk on her face before she turns towards their grandmère, smiling at her. Lucas resists the urge to let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a great idea. Daphné told me about it, and it would be a great way to meet up with the girls.” She turns to Lucas now. “And even make some new friends, righti, Lucas?”

“Yeah, sure.” His response is dry, annoyed and defeated. He had a feeling this conversation would come, just not so soon. 

“It would be a great way for you, Lucas, to make friends, specifically.”

“ _ Je sais, grand-mère. _ (I know, grandmother.)”He sighs, irritated, hoping that they would drop the conversation. 

He tries to hide his surprise when they do drop it, thankfully, because usually, they like to pressure Lucas by planting little seeds instead of a full discussion, hoping that in retrospect he will understand that he needs to make friends, and that he can’t just be at home and read for the summer away. Which Lucas doesn’t understand, because his grandmother is a translator and Manon is practicing to be a pastry chef, which means they both stay home a lot. So, why is Lucas the one getting pressured?

“ _ Because you don’t have the purpose of staying at home. There isn’t something you are trying to do or accomplish. You are just lonely. _ ”

Manon told him that once after his grandmother made another attempt to get him to interact with people in the town. It was on a day after Manon came home from school, Lucas having stayed in the villa, since he previously finished his exams before he moved into his Grand-mère’s house, while Manon still had classes to attend to. She had said to him, in the kindest, most-Manon way possible, that her life was more exciting than his, to which he replied in the most Lucas-way possible and rolled his eyes. He had hoped that if he ignored it, her insistent remarks would go away

Three weeks later and Manon's first week of summer starting, they still haven’t. 

“It’s just a party. There will be many more. Nothing to be excited about.” Lucas replies nonchalantly, dismissing their underlying intention as he stands up to bring his plate to the sink, running water over it until all the crumbs have washed off, taking a sponge and cleaning it. 

He towels it dry before walking back to the table, grabbing the knife near the pie tray and cutting another piece, alongside with some potatoes and a fork from the basket before he turns around to head up the stairs.

“ _ Attends! Lucas, _ take some strawberries. She loves them.” His grandmother had already picked up some strawberries with the spoon , ready to place them on Lucas’s plate. Lucas gives his grandmother a half-smile, walks over to her and allows her to place them onto the plate. Once she is done, he looks over to Manon, who plainly sends him a comforting smile. What else is she supposed to do?

“ _ Merci. _ ” He turns around to walk to the stairs, stepping on the wooden steps as he goes up. This time, however, the creaking of the floorboards sound melancholy. He already knows the cause of it. 

He walks over to the turquoise door he had avoided when he first walked past it, plate held in front of him as he brings his hand up to the door, debating on whether or not he should just open it. 

No, knock first.

So he does, knocking gently on the door before speaking.

“ _ Maman? C’est moi _ . I brought some dinner. It’s some potatoes and vegetable pie and…” He doesn’t hear a response, causing his words to falter to a pause, exhaling softly. He looks down at his feet, thinking over his next action. Should he leave it at the door? Walk inside? He…

Inhaling once, Lucas looks up, staring at the chips of the pale door before balancing the plate on his left hand and twisting the door knob with his right. 

He makes sure it’s quiet, but he still hears the slight squeak of the door. He hopes that his mother is sleeping and doesn’t wake up from her slumber. However, he instead sees his mother sitting on her usual chair, facing away from the door towards the window, her back the only thing visible. Lucas quietly walks inside, pushing the door so it is only slightly open, and starts headings towards his mother with his plate in hand 

“ _ Ah, bonjour, Maman. _ I brought dinner, ahh...” When Lucas turns to see her face, he falters once again. His mother is staring directly into the sky with an expressionless face, hers eyes, although a beautiful blue, now dead and pale, cold and lifeless.

They are a shell of the kind eyes Lucas remembers his mother giving to him. He still as surprised as he was the first time he saw her like this at the beginning of the week; but, he’s learned to retract himself more, coming to terms with the fact that she is in this state, and has become even better at maintaining unaffected. Or, at least acting like it. . 

As he studies her for a second, her unmoving, expressionless face, her still frame, thinner than Lucas remembers it being a few weeks ago, he places the plate on the table between them, and leans over to press a simple kiss to her hair.

Its soft, a small expression of love, but Lucas knows it isn't enough. He hasn’t been enough. He doesn’t know how to be when she is like this. 

He turns back towards the door, deciding to not linger for any longer, because it serves no purpose truthfully. So, he starts walking towards the door, making sure his footsteps are quiet as he places them onto the floorboards, as if they are simple feathers grazing the glossed wood. 

He has reached the door when he hears her voice. 

“Lucas.”

He freezes, and at that instant, he doesn’t know what to do. He should be happy that his mother is talking, but not like this.

“ _ Oui, Maman _ ?” It’s quiet, tentative, but he knows she can hear it. All she needs is a response.

“God talked to me this morning.”

Lucas bites his lips, turning his head slightly so his voice would be more prominent. 

“Did he?”

“He did.” She sounds so monotone, like a robot only speaking to convey a simple message or command. “He says that we should be careful.”

Lucas sighs, since this is the third time this week he has heard this. 

“Careful of what, Maman?”

“...he didn’t say.” 

“Oh.”

Then, he waits, and gets no response for the next forty seconds. By that, he knows she’s done, so he leaves the room, closing it behind him carefully before taking soft steps towards his room. 

Once he reaches his own door, Lucas shuts and locks it, finally allowing the tears to flow down his eyes as he falls face-down onto his mattress. 

\----

“Lucas! Lucas!  _ Mon chaton! _ ” Lucas doesn’t even have enough time to notice Mika’s sudden presence, let alone avoid his surprise-attack of a hug. Groaning as he stifles over, Mika’s weight being too heavy on his back, Lucas catches himself before he can fall, glaring at Mika as he lets him go, returning Lucas’s glare with a smile. Mika ruffles his hair. “How are you?” 

“Fine, before you attacked me with your death-grip.”

“Lucas!” Mika lets out an exaggerated gasp. At that moment, Lucas can see Manon and, as he could guess, Lisa watching the two of them, Manon smiling while Lisa rolling her eyes. “If I attack you with anything, it is with love!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t love.” Still he gives Mika a quick, proper hug, which the older boy takes as an accomplishment, walking with Lucas over to Lisa and Manon, Lisa being in the process of hugging grand-mere.

“ _ Ça va, Lisa _ ?”

“ _ Oui, ça va. grand-mère _ . But work is stressful and Mika isn’t helping.”

“What! Lisa, for your information I am the best chef-slash-flatmate you will ever have!” Grand-mère just smiles at Mika while Lisa sticks her tongue out at him, pulling away from her hug. 

Since Lisa is Lucas’s cousin, and especially since she is Manon’ sister, Lucas sees her frequently , significantly more now since she has started working from home. That allows for her to visit more, which is nice for Lucas, to see his cousin, and for Manon to see her older sister, but that also means that Mika comes along as well. 

He remembers Mika coming in for the first time four months ago when he visited his grandmother for some time, introducing himself as Lisa’s friend and flatmate. Then, his grandmother took an instant liking to him and his flamboyant attitude, and as much as Lucas doesn’t admit it, he likes Mika too.

Now they visit once a month, once a week since Lisa works from home and Mika now has an actual excuse to tag-along. 

“Doesn’t Manon get one of your death hugs?” Lucas asks Mika, who turns to Manon with a smile, while she holds her hands up protectively.

“Already got one before you, thank you.”

“Manon..” Mika says exaggeratedly, holding his arms out wide. She shakes her head frightened and holds a hand up in front of herself to stop him.

“No! Not anymore!” Mika drops his arms in defeat.

“What are you guys planning to do today, then?” Grand-mère asks, sitting down in a chair she pulls out from the dining table. 

“Oh,” Mika looks up from her to Lisa, then to Manon, and finally to Lucas, which lead him to understand that he is going to bear all of Mika’s excitement. So, when Mika throws his arms around Lucas’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, he has already mentally given up. “Well,  _ il y a une fête ce soir, donc, _ (there is a party tonight, so,)”

Immediately, Lucas and Manon make eye contact, and a smirk starts to form on her lips. Lucas already wants to jolt back up the stairs, but Mika’s death-grip is keeping him from doing so. 

“I know, Manon told me.”

Mikas lets out an audibly loud gasp, and it's almost comical how wide his eyes get, looking between him and Manon.

“‘You are?”

“No--”

“Yup.” Manon answers for both of them, cutting Lucas off and causing him to shoot daggers at her in response, She doesn’t look at him once.

“ _ Ouaissss! Une fête avec mes filles! (Yeahhh! A party with my girls!) _ ” Mika screams this and hugs Lucas tighter, causing him to choke slightly, but none of the girls react. They all smile and laugh as if Lucas wasn’t dying at the spot, trying to pull himself out from Mika’s grasp, sighing in relief when he is successful. As soon as Lucas moves away, Mika grabs him by the arm and smirks at him. “You count as one of the girls in this connotation.”

“Super.” Lucas deadpans, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms, eyeing the empty turquoise couch that now looks much more comfortable compared to this situation. He starts to take a step forward, maybe sleep on it for a bit before Manon and Mika, probably not Lisa, she understands his need to be antisocial at times, drag him to this event and make him stay there for god-knows how long. 

However, Mika stops Lucas by grabbing one of the flaps of his unbuttoned shirt, yanking him back towards him, which causes Lucas to stumble slightly. 

“Dude!”

“Lucas, as much as I love seeing your bare chest.”

“My grandmère is right there—“

“You need to wear something more classy. Something boyish and youthful, yes, but sufisticated and hot.”

“No ones gonna care.” Lucas grumbles, pulling his shirt away from Mika’s grasp, turning to look at Manon for support. She just smiles at them, and his grandmère isn’t doing much different. 

“I care!” Mika gasps, dramatic and faux offended, placing a hand on his chest like Lucas has just said his baby was ugly. “Now, what clothes do you have?”

“Hoodies.” Lucas bites, trying to get Mika to stop with his whole fashion intervention.

“Why?” Mika asks, almost disgusted.

“Where he comes from it’s colder. And those were your winter clothes.” Manon supports, but continues to add. “And your spring clothes, and your summer clothes..”

“Thanks.” Lucas replies, miff, shoving his hands in his short’s pockets. 

“ _ Je pourrais avoir des vêtements que Lucas peut porter. _ (I might have some clothes that Lucas can wear)” All their heads turn towards Grandmère who is smiling at Lucas softly, nodding her head once before she walks pass them and towards the stairs. “I’ll be back, but in that time, Mika, Lisa, Manon, get dressed. Lucas,  _ attends ici _ ” Each of them looks at Grandmère as she walks up to the staircase, following her movements until she turns into the hallway and disappears, leaving all of them confused, especially Lucas. 

“God fucking dammit.” Lucas curses under his breath, sauntering defeatedly over to the couch, falling onto it horizontally and letting his arm droop off the side, fingers grazing the end the rug. 

Manon, shaking her head at Lucas reaction, walks over to him and hits his forehead lightly, to which Lucas groans. 

“ _ C’était ton faute.  _ (That was your fault)” Lucas let's out, his right arm covering his eyes as he speaks. Manon walks around the couch over to the spot Lucas lays his legs on, moving them off the couch so that she can sit there. Immediately, Lucas moves his legs back, only this time on top of Manon’s thighs. She rolls her eyes but doesn't move him off.

”It’s not my problem that you don’t like going out with people. Or that you don’t have friends” Manon replies calmly, leaning back so her neck bends slightly against the cushion and she can look up at the ceiling. Mika and Lisa have already left to get changed at their apartment, which isn't too far away from the house, leaving Manon and Lucas alone downstairs.

”Shouldn’t you be changing?” Lucas asks, arm still covering his eyes as he comments.

“Mika and Lisa are going to take forever.” There is a pause. “Mika is going to take forever.” 

Then they both start bursting into laughter, Lucas finally allowing his arm to uncover his eyes as he curls over in hilarity, eyes making contact with a beam of light shining onto their coffee table, a warm golden rod fixating and spreading against the dark brown wood. For a second, his eyes stay on it, before moving back to Manon, the smile on her profile gentle as she continues to stare up at the ceiling. 

Oh, the golden hue has stretched over her too, and now her usual brown hair looks lighter, a dark red instead of the usual brunette, and Lucas can see bits of her shadow on the arm rest at her end of the couch. It’s a nice scene, from his point of view and from an outside one, since he presumes that he is also covered in some golden light, but is honestly too lazy to consider it. 

Their grandmother considers it, however, admires it, and also admires seeing her two grandchildren happy and smiling next to each other, an atmosphere of warmth and comfort created by the two’s interaction and presence. She breathes out a sigh of relief, almost, but her inner emotions plainly come out as a satisfied smile, because here they are. Happy. In her home, away from the things she knew has hurt them. 

“ _ Manon, je t’ai dit de habiller.  _ (Manon, I told you to get dressed)” She finally speaks, getting the attention of both of her grandchildren, finally aware of their grandmother who is standing near the staircase, with a blue item bundled up in her hands. Lucas knows what that could be, and in the way that Manon smiles, it seems like she knows a bit more than Lucas. 

“ _ Désolée, Grand-mère. Je vais.  _ (Sorry, grandmother. I’m going.)” Manon pushes off Lucas legs, Lucas letting out a grunt as she does, to which Manon ignores and continues to walk towards the stairs. When she reaches them, she looks at the item in her grandmère’s hand then back at her grandmère, both of them sharing a secret conversation with their eyes that lasts for about four seconds before Manon is off to climb up the stairs, the familiar creek following her.. Then, it is just Lucas and his grandmère, and Lucas takes as a signal to get up and walk over to her, a simple half-smile plastered on his face when he meets her.

“Well…”

“ _ Ici. _ (Here.)” Grandmère holds out the blue item, waiting for Lucas to take it, and he does. Carefully taking the object into his hands, Lucas takes a second to feel the knitted cotton, moving his thumb over the fabric before grasping onto a small section and letting the rest fall, hanging and revealing the shirt.

“It's your grand-père’s blue polo shirt. He wore it to  _ una festa _ (the party) were we met.” She looks down at the material in Lucas hands fondly, and he could see the shift in her eyes, the memories that began to flood her head.

“ _ Tu l’as gardè? _ (You kept it?)” Lucas asks, whispering now. The moment is private, and although no one is around to hear them, not close, Lucas feels obligated to be hushed, intimate, keep the sound contained in the small bubble they have created. 

“ _ Mais, oui. Bien sûr. _ (Yes. Of course.)” Lucas always admired his grand-mères eyes, the one thing he is glad he inherited from his Maman, completely different from his father’s cold, grey ones. Usually, her eyes are a bright blue, like a sky blue gem, light but present, inticing yet comforting. His mother’s eyes are slightly more intense, like Manons, while Lucas’ is the most saturated; however, it all goes back to Grandmère, and now, her light blue eyes tell so much. “He would be happy that his grandson is wearing it. He looked great. And so will you.” Finally, she looks up, eyes fizzling out of the memory she was in, focusing all her attention to Lucas as he held up the blue material.

When viewing further, however, Lucas notices the thin pink stripes, horizontal to the shirt, and the small stitched crest on the right breast side. It is nice, simple; Lucas could imagine his grand-père in it, looking young and vibrant. Well, from what his grandmère had told him, but he can still ponder. 

He brings the shirt down, low enough so he can properly look at his grandmère, smiling at her, genuinely this time, his lips stretched and his eyes soft and sincere.

“Merci, grand-mère.”

“ _ Vas-y, s’amuser. _ (Go head, have fun.)” Lucas just nods before he starts walking up the stairs, taking second before to kiss his grandmères cheek softly. 

He reaches the top of the stairs, turning right into the hallway, only to come face to face with Manon. They both stop, but Manon instantly gives him a gentle smile, and Lucas takes a second to admire her appearance. She wore a square necked, summer dress, white with small red flowers, a pair of white vans, and red lipstick. 

She looks beautiful, and that’s why Lucas gives her a breathless smile in return.

“Wow.”

“Wow?  _ C’est tout? _ (That’s all?)”

“You look good.” 

Manon scrunches her shoulder dramatically, nonchalantly as if she knows that fact and that it is plainly obvious, playfully diva like, before exhaling with a smile, the crinkles near the edges of her mouth showing as her dark, red lips stretch. 

“Merci, Lucas.” Then she looks down at the shirt in Lucas’s hand. “ _ Et toi? _ (And you?)”

“ _ Bientôt.  _ (Soon.)” 

She smiles contently at him, looks down at the shirt, and pats his shoulder as she starts to climb down the stairs. Neither of them look at each other as they continue on their way, content with the interaction they have just had. 

——

“Yesss, you came!” Mika’s exclamation bursts into Lucas’s ears as soon as he walks near the set up tables, and Lucas debates whether there is enough time for him to turn around and sprint in some random direction. Mika beats him, though, walking over to both him and Manon, engulfing them in one of his famous death-grip hugs. 

“Yeah...Mika...you’re crushing us.” Lucas cringed, lightly trying to push Mika away so he can catch his breath. 

“Well, Manon hasn’t said anything.” Mika replies, pulling away so that both Manon and Lucas are released from his hug, fixing their now crinkled attire. Manon just shrugs.

“I’m used to it.” Lucas glares at her nonchalant response, receiving a wide smile back before Mika pulls both of them up to one of the round, plastic, white tables he has claimed. 

Lucas looks around the area surrounded by the various, main buildings, each tall and painted with some sort of muted, pastel colors, but Lucas can see the various chips and marks that have accumulated over time. None of them are fairly recent or renovated , if you don’t consider small fixes or minor changes.

The whole villa is fairly old, marked with ancient architecture and buildings, with various scenic, outdoor attractions that give it a 1980s aesthetic. Lucas felt like he traveled back in time when he first came here, being surrounded by chalky yellow and blue buildings while various people in, almost, 80s inspired clothing danced around. Loose shirts, flowing dresses, sandals, sneakers, shorts, all in various pastel and even neon colors.

He would have admired the scenery more if it wasn’t for Manon poking him on his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Go talk to people.” She says gesturing to the array of individuals all throughout the scene. There are various teenagers and young adults socializing, and a few young kids as well, giggling, laughing, clinking glasses before they call take a swig of their beverages, and Lucas understands that his closed-off demeanor will only make him the odd one out. But, he can’t help it. He truly did not want to come to this event, and although he would love to spend time with his cousins and Mika, doing it in such a crowded event only causes him anxiety. He cannot just talk to Lisa, Mika, and Manon, that would be rude, and he knows that Manon has other friends that she can hang out with, so the knowledge that she is willingly hanging out with Lucas instead of having genuine fun with her school mates makes Lucas feel guilty more than appreciated. 

So, Manon advising him to “Go talk to people” only works because Lucas doesn’t want to seem rude or prohibit Manon from hanging out with the people she already knew.

“Okay.” When he steps away from his group, to the shock of Mika, Lisa probably couldn’t care less, he tentatively walks closer to the crowd, eyes searching through the sea of pastel, muted colors and bright neon to find faces friendly enough to make conversation with. It’s a bit hard to do this since everyone seems to have grouped off, found their clique and partners for the night, but Lucas has made it this far so he is not going to go back.

At least, not right now. 

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts, he continues to walk and search through the crowd, eyeing various individuals that seem around his age and look friendly enough to start a conversation with. He spots a group with both boys and girls, laughing with each other, smiling, there is a girl with blonde hair, a boy with short black hair, a girl with red hair, and—

Lucas makes a b-line behind a group of girls who are chatting with each other, too engrossed in their conversation to even notice Lucas. He hopes that Chloé, who is cheerily discussing who-knows-what with her friends, will do the same.

Chloé was one of the first people he interacted with in this town, besides grandmère and Manon, and although she was kind to him, Lucas knew that kindness came from a place leaning more towards attraction. The first day they met, Lucas was riding his bike around the town, quickly skimming around various shops and spots, while also making sure to go to the  _ petit magasin _ that his grandmère bought a dress from, wanting Lucas to pick it up on his way back.

“ _ Salut, bienvenue au Petit Magasin de Vêtements de Celine  _ (Hi, welcome to Celine’s Little Clothing Store.)”

When he did, he met Chloé there, the daughter of the shop owner, whose eyes perked up as soon as she spotted Lucas. Suddenly, her hair was being fixed, her smile stretching to twice its size, and her voice raising up to twice its previous octave.

“ _ Bien, bonjour. _ ”

“Bonjour. I'm here for a dress for Beatrice Durand?” Lucas asked her, and she jumped quirkily, face shifting to a sweet surprised one before she turned around and walked into the back room, a door placed someone to the left of her, light brown wood surrounded by a baby blue wall. After a few minutes of standing there patiently, looking around the room and waddling slightly on his feet, the girl came back out, empty handed but still with a wide smile.

“I’m sorry, but Maman has told me that she still needs to put on the buttons for the dress. I can drop it off later if you’d like?”

And because Lucas didn’t want to stay near Chloé and her bright, overly friendly, borderline suggestive smile for any longer, he quickly nodded, said goodbye, and rode his bike back home, making sure to tell his grandmère the news.

Two days later, Chloe came to his house, a cubed shaped object, with soft edges and wrapped in parchment paper, in her arms, greeting Lucas with an overexcited smile. Ever since then, she always makes sure to greet Lucas when she seems him, give him a hug that lasts slightly too long, and for some reason always laughs at Lucas’ jokes, even if they’re shitty. Yet, Lucas, not wanting to come off as rude, hasn’t pushed her away completely, but instead tries to make their interactions as quick as possible.

Or in extreme cases, avoid her if possible. Which is why he is hiding right now.

He peeks over the two girls, much to their unawareness, and sees if Chloé has spotted him. When her eyes scanned over to his area, he ducks again, lower than he would be if he was standing straight, back slightly bent so he would be hidden from her vision. 

He stays there for a few seconds, hoping Chloé hadn't noticed anything suspicious yet. What he doesn’t account for, however, is the voice that speaks up behind him.

“Are you hogging all the drinks, dude?” 

Lucas jumps, abruptly turning around the face the sound, his alarmed facial expression and reaction causing the source of the voice to move back as well. When Lucas’ surprised eyes look in front of him, they find themselves settled on a dark-skinned boy, a few inches taller than Lucas himself, with a navy blue cotton button down with pink flowers scattered on it, smiling at him amused. 

“Ahh,  _ non _ .”

“Then, why are you standing there. Am I supposed to assume that you have been waiting for a drink for 15 minutes?” The man asks, a slightly teasing tone in his question. Has it really been 15 minutes? 

Lucas, recovering himself slowly, throws the man a playful scoff, smiling up at him.

“And what if I was?”

The man throws his hands up defensively, taking a dramatic step back from Lucas.

“Then I’m sorry I asked, mec.”

Lucas giggles at the boys behavior, and the boy seems to find their interaction amusing too, bringing his hands down as he walks back closer to Lucas, but holding out his arm again for a handshake.

“Yann.” The boy offers, waiting for Lucas to respond.

“Lucas.” He takes his hand and gives it a firm shaking, pulling back when he’s done and smiling at the boy, allowing him to continue.

“You new here?” Yann starts, giving Lucas a quirk of the eyebrow. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere in town, but not often?”

“Yeah, I’m new, been here for a few weeks now, but never really went to talk to people.” Lucas confirms, sticking his hands into his pant’s pockets.

“And why is that?”

“Mhm,  _ je sais pas _ . (I don’t know.)”

“You don’t know?”

Lucas shrugs in response, hoping that the new stranger wouldn’t inquire him any more personal questions, well, personal for Lucas. The stranger—no, Yann, seems to get the message from Lucas passive shrug, nodding his head after Lucas’s reaction before turning his head to the left and into the crowd.

“Well, Lucas, if you want to meet some new people, then me and my friends are over there.” Yann gestures his shoulder towards a table to his right, Lucas’ left, and when following the trail, he sees a boy with blonde hair and glasses with a blue cotton shirt and another boy with brown, curly hair and a striped black and white shirt conversing animatedly, laughing and pushing each other as their discussion continues. Lucas examines them for a bit, smiles, and then turns back to Yann, giving him a soft hum.

“Ahh, maybe.”

“Maybe?” Yann repeats, a slightly playful question in his tone, and before Lucas could respond, he hears a high pitched voice.

“Lucas!” 

Fuck.

Both boys turn towards the source, and before he can register what is happening, Chloé’s peppy smile and brown hair are directly right in front of him, in the place where the two girls used to be, as they now have migrated to somewhere else.

Yann just stands there with raised eyebrows, not really reacting to the situation while Lucas mentally curses himself for not having planned this better. Fuck, he cannot do anything now. 

“Chloé…” He trails, strained, but Chloé doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to beam at Lucas like he is the sun. She throws a quick greeting at Yann.

“ _ Salut, Yann! _ ”

“ _ Salut, Chloé. _ You excited to start break?” Yann replies, giving her a polite smile.

“Mhm!” She hips, turning back to Lucas cheerily. “Are you excited, Lucas?”

“Ahh, Yeah, I guess.” His tone is unsure and uneasy, but Chloé doesn’t seem to notice, and from Lucas’s perspective, neither does Yann, or he does and just doesn’t mention it. 

“Since you’re here, my break is already off to a great start!” Lucas doesn’t reply to this one, letting out only a faint and hollow chuckle, looking around uncomfortably as Chloé stands directly in front of him, unmoving and radiant, too radiant.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later then, dude.” Yann pats him on the shoulder once, and when Lucas turns around, he is already heading back towards his group of friends, and all Lucas wants to do is follow him, so he doesn’t have to deal with Chloé. Tonight. He doesn’t want to deal with Chloé for tonight. He’s not...prepared. It’s not Chloé’s own fault…

“I didn’t think you’d come!” Her voice pulls him back to the situation, her brown hair waving as she quickly jets her head to the left so she can examine Lucas’s turned face, moving back as soon as he faces her again. Her arms are behind her back, clasped together Lucas assumes, and she looks at Lucas expectantly, a girlish smile on her face. Gosh, she’s sweet, but just too…

“I didn’t think so either. But, ah, Manon convinced me.” He replies, letting out an awkward laugh after he finishes his sentence, shoving his hands in his pockets again and looking down at the ground. 

“Well, I'm glad she did. I asked her if you were coming.” 

“Yeah, ahh. I know. She told me.” He kicks a rock that is beneath his foot and watches it bounce slightly before tumbling, settling a good distance away from them. God, their interaction is strained. 

“Well, do you want to get a table together?” She asked, and Lucas looks up right as his eyes go wide from quick pensivity, trying to come up with any way to avoid them.

“But, you’re friends—“

“They won’t mind! I see them, like, everyday! I barely see you!” She giggles after she finishes her sentence, and Lucas diligently tries to find another way out.

“But I don’t want to bother y—“

“Lucas, you would never bother me!” Of course you fucking don’t, Lallemant, that’s the whole goddamn problem.

“Umm..” he couldn’t think of another excuse that did not seem purposefully avoiding or rude, so he just gapes slightly, looking over his options one more time to see if,  _ maybe, there is a chance _ , before giving in when he finds it useless. “...okay.”

“Yay!” He feels her arms snake around his biceps before he’s dragged towards an empty, white table, stumbling slightly at the sudden motion. He doesn’t know if they’re making any type of scene, but no one seems to genuinely care, so at least Lucas isn’t being embarrassed. Socially. “You’ve never told me about where you grew up.” 

She says this to him as soon as they contact the table, the sentence more of an underlying question than a statement, and Lucas has to internally plan out how he is going to tell her the least amount of information about his life while also giving her enough to divert from inquiring more on the subject. This isn’t because Chloé is solely herself, but Lucas generally has kept very quiet about his personal life, minus Manon and Grandmère, and Lisa, his actual family (He isn’t sure how much Mika knows). He had an unstable living situation when he was growing up, young and impressionable, and as he grew up, things became more difficult. Of course, by the age of thirteen, Lucas had a better grasp on what was going on, and what was going to happen, but the situation became more strained, so he guesses it evens out. But, it is something that is even hard for him to talk to his own relatives about, so for a stranger, even a friend—he doesn’t know where Chloé lies there on that list—to ask him about it, Lucas wants to avoid it as much as possible.

“I was born in Paris and grew up there. Had some pretty cool friends, stayed in a small house. Ah, I’m going into my Terminale Year when school starts?” It is a mishmash of facts and phrases, but Lucas hopes that it will satisfy Chloé’s inkling. Her eyes get slightly wider after he finishes speaking, straightening her back before leaning into Lucas, lips stretched to an excited smile.

“I didn’t realize you were older than me! I’m a first year!” Chloé informs, seemingly more excited that she was before. Lucas doesn’t understand why that was something to be thrilled over, it is just age, and not much to begin with. But, then again, Chloé has gotten excited over a lot of things in the past seven minutes.

“Really, Wow, that's something huh.” His voice sounds slightly strained, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he puts in the minimal amount of effort and enthusiasm. She nods her head before continuing.

“Yeah! What Terminale are you in?” She asks, overenthusiastically interested.

“Ahh.. Terminale S?” He answers, looking around the plaza as he responds. He sees Manon with Mika, Lisa, and a group of girls to which Lucas knows as “Le Crew”, or the group of friends Manon spends her time with. She has met Emma once because she and Manon were working on a project for lycée, and he has heard of Daphné because her mother runs a market. But, the two other girls, one with blue-dyed hair and other wearing a hijab, he hasn’t met before. Still, he would rather be there, where people are laughing, eating, and joking around, that with Chloé, who seems to be the only one enjoying the situation. 

“I heard that’s the hardest to do.” He hears Chloé say, pulling him back to their conversation.

“Yeah, I guess.” He responds.

“I'm so sorry, Lucas.” She replies, rubbing his shoulder in comfort, to which he slightly pulls back.

“It’s, ah, really fine.” He looks around the area again, taking a second to examine the numerous people dancing in the middle of the plaza, music blaring from two speakers held up by two wooden stands, girls swaying, guys jumping around, couples moving sweetly with each other. It looks nice, and much better than carrying an awkward conversation with Chloé right now. 

“Well, do you want a drink?” She asks, looking around for a server. 

“Ahh, it’s okay—“ before he can even finish his response, she is calling someone over.

“Excuse me! Eliott!” Lucas winces at Chloé raised voice, ducking his head down slightly as he sees a figure walk closer to them at the corner of his eye.

“Yes?”

“Could we have two beers, please?” She turns back to Lucas. “Are you okay with beers?” 

Lucas turns his head around to face her, ready to give her a quick nod before looking back down to his lap, but for some reason, he froze. 

“Would you like a beer, sir?” 

  
  


The fact that he is leaning down makes it even worse for Lucas, because now, he can see everything about this man: his messy blond hair, the cut of his jaw,, his blue-grey colored eyes that only appear when a fog casts over the sea, but for some reason, is now found circulating this mans iris. He is beautiful, in all senses.

“Yeah, a beer would be fine.” He nods, giving the server a quick smile before looking back down at his lap. Chloé turns towards the man again, giving him a polite grin before sending him off.

  
  


“Thank you.” And then he is gone, walking towards the bar Lucas previously tried to hide from Chloé by, and again, he is alone with her. “He’s nice. I think he just graduated, I don’t know.”

“Who?” Lucas asks, tapping his foot against the floor anxiously, listening to the dance music playing in the background.

“Eliott. The guy who was just here. He graduated last year, I think. But, he’s sweet. Comes to my mothers store sometimes. Pretty cute too.” She smirks after the statement, leaning in closer towards Lucas’s ear. “But not as cute as you.” Her voice gets lower, quieter, and Lucas almost jolts away extensively, but restrained himself to just ducking down again, giving an awkward laugh in return. 

“Thanks..” He says, looking around the area. There are more people in the plaza now, although all of the families have left, being replaced with teens and younger adults, deciding that now is the perfect time to dance and drink. It’s reasonable, Lucas thinks, it’s 23h, and if he was with his friends back home, he would do the same. Well, “friends”, but still. 

The next few minutes go by excruciatingly slow, Chloé talking about lycée, her friends, the town, and her own life, and as much as Lucas wants to find it all interesting, Chloé’s peppy enthusiasm and continuous comments make him want to leave as soon as possible. He makes eye contact with Manon at a certain point, and although Lucas was very clear with his puppy-dog eyes, begging Manon to come to his aid, she just shrugs and smiles at him, turning back to talk to her friends. Damn cousins. It may be because Manon wants him to make friends, but he doesn’t think Chloé has the intention of making friends. 

If he was anybody else, this wouldn’t botherhim. But, for Lucas, it plainly...doesn’t work. He doesn’t, and quite frankly, he doesn’t feel anything at all. That thought alone usually frightens him to no end, but right now he is too preoccupied with the situation at hand to contemplate topics that usually keep him up at night. 

“—and then Maria threw up everywhere! It was awful!” Lucas catches the end of Chloé’s sentence when he comes out of his mind once again, nodding his head quickly and pretending like he was listening to her the whole time. She seems convinced by it, though, and continues to talk, and Lucas genuinely ponders if faking an illness or an emergency would be an appropriate way to leave. As every moment passes, he feels the tapping of his fingers become more uneven, a messy sympathy, and his eye flying around to look at anything, anything besides Chloé, more frequently. For some reason, she doesn’t notice any of it, and Lucas doesn’t know if he should be happy or annoyed at her unfaltering oblivion.

“Was it?”

“Yes! Maria threw up everywhere— ah, speaking of her…” Chloé’s voice falters, and Lucas can see now that her attention has shifted to something in front of her, so Lucas curiously follows, and now both of them are staring at a girl with blonde hair and a black dress vomit out her insides as an upbeat 80s music plays in the background. He hears Chloé hiss. “Damn it, Maria!” She stands up even before she addresses Lucas, looking down at him sympathetically yet hastily. “I have to go, Lucas. I’m so sorry.” 

Lucas whispers a quick “it’s okay”, giving the girl a small smile right before she pushes her chair out fully and bolts towards the dry-heaving girl, immediately grasping her hair and holding it up as she spills out her insides, all her concerned friends circling around the two. 

Lucas, left alone, looks around the area one more time. He takes in the people, the flashing neon lights, the softer light coming from the plazas street lamps, the snippets of conversation he hears from different groups of people, and suddenly he’s up out of his chair. 

By the time he reaches the two, old cafes placed on the left and right of the stone path that serves as their entrance, the flashing lights fading so as to leave the path dark, illuminated by a weak street lamp, he feels a hand on his forearm.

“Where are you going?” Manon questions, and when he turns to look at her he can see all her friends, Mika, and Lisa paying attention to him as well. Lucas scans them all once before giving his attention to Manon.

“Not far.”

“Lucas!” But he’s already walking towards the path, and Manon can see less and less of him as he walks away further, disappearing between the two cafes that closed not so long ago for the night. 

——

One thing he appreciates about this town is his ability to be alone when he truly wants to, and how even if you are the only person in the area, you can still truly feel at peace. Maybe it’s because Lucas’s prior situation wasn’t ideal, too many people, too much pressure to interact, a little too much interaction with Chloé, but now, he feels the most relaxed he has been all day. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Lucas turns to his left when he reaches the end of the path, the stone walls angling in the same direction. However, when he rounds the corner, he’s glad that he had opened his eyes when he did, although it was only to make sure he wouldn’t trip and fall. In fact, it actually prevented him from running into a tall man, something Lucas finds far worse. 

“ _ Désolé _ , am I in your way?” Raspy. The voice is slightly raspy, and maybe it’s from fatigue, makes it’s natural, or maybe it’s from the smoke that is being inhaled into the man's lungs as he pulls away the cigarette that was previously in between his lips. Nonetheless, it cuts the silence of the empty streets, and it takes Lucas a few seconds to reel back from the shock before he could speak.

“Maybe.” His voice is calm, level, a bit teasing. Lucas has mastered how to conceal his true feelings for a while now.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man chuckled, turning his head towards Lucas, the upper back of it making contact with the stone. He is leaning against it, left hand stuck in his pocket and feet slightly in front of the rest of his body, angling him slightly to make him look almost as if he was pushing himself against the wall. “You can move around me.”

“Nah, I’ve already stopped for too long.”

“You can still keep going. No one is forcing you to stay.” It’s teasing as well, but there is a strain, minuscule, beyond subtle, almost as if it wasn’t there at all, so Lucas decides to ignore it altogether 

“That’s true, but what’s the point of leaving if the party is here.”

“Here? The party is a few blocks from where you came from.” The man smirks, and Lucas mimics a softer one. 

“Touche.”

The man holds out his left hand, cigarette held between his thumb and pointer finger, and hovers it over the space separating him and Lucas. 

“It’s a choice, you could do it, or you could not.” Lucas nods. 

The man smiles and moved the cigarette closer to Lucas’s face. Taking it, Lucas inhales once, attempts to subdue the cough coming up his throat, and gives the cigarette back him , who takes a drag with ease. Lucas blows the smoke away from himself. 

“Have you gotten bored of these parties now?” The man asks, keeping his head facing towards the stone wall opposite of them. Lucas shakes his head, also staring at the wall. 

“No. First time.”

“New?”

“Moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Oh.”

Silence. He hears an exhale, and then the man speaks. 

“Any reason?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.”

He sees the cigarette appear in his peripheral vision, and this time Lucas just shakes his head, waiting for the man to move it away from him and back to his own lips. Lucas asks the next question, because he just made a few connections.

“Are you bored of these parties.”

The man chuckles. “Sometimes.”

“Are you new as well?”

“I was a server at that party.”

“I know, you took our order.” Lucas looks over at him, pressing his temple against the stone. “Can you repeat your name?”

“Can you tell me yours?” It’s almost at an instant, and if he had said it any faster, it probably would have cut through Lucas’s own sentence.

“....that wasn’t the question.”

“I know that.” 

The man tilts his head towards Lucas now, cigarette not too far from his face, still held up with his pointer finger and thumb. Lucas raises an eyebrow in challenge; the man smiles at him.

  
  


“You answer first.” Lucas says.

“I’ve been here longer than you.”

That is not a solid nor reasonable argument, but Lucas gives in anyways, shaking his head in playful defeat as he begins to tilt his shoulder and chest towards the man, his torso still angled closer to the opposite wall.

“It’s Lucas.”

“That’s understandable.”

Lucas’s eyebrow raises again, but the man doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, turning his head back towards the opposing wall before taking another drag. Lucas waits for a few seconds, and he gets no answer, so he speaks again.

“And yours?”

“Mine? It’s Eliott.”

Eliott. The man’s name rolls smooth on his tongue. He doesn’t say it out loud, of course, but Lucas images it would be very nice.

“Okay.” 

The more he stares at Eliott, the more he notices. More than he had noticed the first time. His dusty blond hair, spiking up in various directions, which Lucas senses is probably soft to the touch. It’s short, but not too short, not buzzed, not falling on his face; it’s just in between. He notices the man's shirt, white, silky, the type that becomes instantly transparent when it comes in contact with water. He notices how it buttons from the second-down, and a sliver of his chest seen through the upside-down triangle created by the top of his shirt, but Lucas only sees just a sliver of the pale skin due to his angle. It’s the same soft skin Lucas sees on Eliott’s arms, the muscle present as his gaze trails down it, to the slightly discoloration of his elbows, a bit more tan than the rest of his skin, to his forearm, where he finds wisps of blonde, almost transparent, hairs, and then his hands. They have an array of silver rings on every other finger, some thick and boxy, others a slim coil. Even there, his hands look soft, and as he keeps going down? His exposed knees and calf, what wasn’t covered by his khaki pants, is tan like the rest of him. However, when he reaches his feet, they are surprisingly exposed for someone who was standing in the street, where cars could pass by. His soles are lighter than the rest of his foot, and Lucas can only see them now because one is facing up, the toes pressing themselves into the concrete for balance, and Lucas views how smoothly they transition to his ankle. He’s soft, very soft, and Lucas makes this calculation in a mere 10 seconds before Eliott realizes that he is staring at him.

Eliott. 

“Do you like the parties here, Eliott?” Lucas decides to stare at one portion on the opposite wall, illuminated by the street lights. 

“Mhhm, sometimes.” Eliott places the cigarette to his lips and inhales. “Sometimes I don’t.” The words come out as Eliott exhales the smoke. 

“Sometimes you don’t?” Lucas repeats, in question.

“Yup. Sometimes you like to run in the morning, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you like to read a certain book, other times you can’t stand it.” Eliott tilts his head towards the direction of where the party would be, but it is still pressing against the wall. “Sometimes you like loud disco music, sometimes you don’t.”

“It’s not all disco.” Lucas adds, shrugging. “S’not that bad.”

“Then why are you here?” The man smirks when he says this, and Lucas almost goes to answer before he remembers.

“You’ve already asked that.” The man nods his head.

“You noticed.” He inhales through the tip of the cigarette and exhales around it, a foggy cloud condensing and apparating up and away from them. Lucas ponders for a moment on how to respond.

“I understand though. Sometimes you want to play a certain song…” He pauses for a moment, and Eliott takes that moment to speak.

“And sometimes you don’t?” 

Lucas looks over at him again, tilting his head against the stone wall, and for a few seconds they are both staring at each other, Lucas looking up slightly at Eliott’s soft hair and blue-grey eyes, and Eliott presumably doing the same. Lucas gently brings his hand up and taps the middle of the cigarette, watching how his actions caused movement in Eliott’s lips where the cigarette is held. He speaks.

“Sometimes you change the arrangement.”

“Do you play the piano, Lucas?”

Lucas turns his head around, suddenly scorched; the atmosphere shifts so quickly, at least for him. 

“The music changed.” He doesn’t look over to see Eliott’s reaction, but he presumes it’s altered slightly. Nonetheless, he gives no verbal cues so Lucas takes that as an exit, a way out, and sprints with it. He could call it running away, but that would only make him hate himself more. 

“It has.” He hears the slightly sound of an extinguished flame and the hiss of its remains, and Lucas presumes that Eliott has put out his cigarette, most likely ready to leave. For a moment, Lucas feels a slight pang in his heart, like a quick flick to the forehead, but decides to ignore it. He turns back around to Eliott, who is now standing up straight and twisting his foot on the ground, stepping back to reveal the crushed up remains of his cigarette. With his bare sole out, Lucas presumes it would hurt, but Eliott is making no such reaction. 

Eliott looks back up, hands shoved into his khaki pants, and gives Lucas a slight smile. Lucas returns it. “That probably means it’s the end of the night.”

Lucas scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and Eliott immediately answers his silent question.

“When the night comes to an end and the party is over, they switch the songs to something more somber.” Eliott tilts his head up and closes his eyes, and he’s quiet. It allows Lucas to study his face, his jaw, the way his eyelashes softly flutter when his eyes twitch slightly, halfway opening before closing again. Eliott hums, nods his head once, and looks down at Lucas.

“Sarabande Number One.” Lucas eyebrows draw closer.

“That’s the song?”

“I believe so. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Lucas’s eyes stare at Eliott, but he does take that moment to listen to the music, the slow, paced piano keys playing continually when it sees fit, but pausing to press out soft, higher-pitches notes when it needs to. It’s a conversation, a discussion, a speech, but a poem. It’s a piece that is hard to categorize, yet it makes Lucas like it more. 

“It is.” Lucas eventually settles on simply agreeing. Eliott takes the answer as it is. 

“Are you leaving, then?” Eliott is now directly facing Lucas, and Lucas realizes their height different now, allowing the fact to settle. He doesn’t mind it, usually his ego is slightly affected by the presence of a taller man, but Lucas finds that the height suits Eliott. It adds to his aura. 

“If it’s the end of the party, I guess so.”

Eliott hums again. 

“I need to go back to clean up.”

“Then you should go.” Lucas gives him a small smile.

“I should?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I should.” Eliott chuckles, kicking his right leg once before tilting his head to face the direction of the party. He doesn’t move yet. “Who is gonna go first?”

“We have to take turns?” Lucas teases, snickering slightly at Eliott’s comment. The latter just shrugs at him, cheekily.

“Yup.”

Lucas waits for Eliott to add anything, but when he doesn’t, he takes the cue.

“Is it supposed to be me?” Eliott shrugs again. 

Lucas takes one more moment to look Eliott up and down, settling at his feet, and relishing on how soft they look even from here. He quickly looks back up.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Eliott pauses .

Lucas turns around and looks back at the path he came from. There is the right, now left, turn, back towards the party, where the music has now subdued, and back to Chloé, and Manon, and Mika.

He turns to look at Eliott, who seems to be staring at Lucas’s back, either examining or waiting, Lucas couldn’t tell. For some reason, he doesn’t want to return. 

But, he heads back anyway, and he doesn’t know if he should be happy that he didn’t look back at Eliott after he started walking 

——

“Lucas! Where were you _ ? _ ” Manon runs towards him as soon as he renters through the pathway, looking up at Lucas with slightly worry and disbelief. Lucas smiles down at her.

“A walk.” He simply answers, and he watches as Manon's face morphs from confusion, to disbelief, to annoyance, all in a span of five seconds. 

“You ditched us.”

“You ditched me!” Lucas retorts, high pitches and defensive, only to receive a snort from Mika who suddenly appears behind him. Lucas feels his arm wrap around his neck and hold him in a friendly choke-hold, if that even exists.

“You missed all the dancing and fun! You could have danced with a cute girl tonight, Lulu!” Mika sways as he says this, and Lucas doesn’t even attempt to mask his eye roll as he tries to release himself from Mika’s grasp. It proves futile as Mika’s death grip keeps itself around Lucas’s neck, so he just settles for the time being. Manon is shaking her head at him still, but there is a faint hint of a smile on her face.

“Where did you go anyways?” She asks. Lucas motions as much as he can back towards the path he came from. 

“Went for a walk.”

“Alone?” Lucas shrugs, moving away slightly as Mika plays with the ends of his hair. 

“Not exactly” Mika’s movements pause and Manon raises a surprised eyebrow.

“Oh?” She exchanges an indecipherable glance with Mika before speaking again. “With who?”

In that moment, Lucas sees a flash of soft, golden hair, the white t-shirt, and exposed feet, the barefoot soles disappearing and appearing as they walk across his peripheral. Lucas makes sure not to hold his glance for too long, but it’s so fresh in his mind that he doesn’t have trouble remembering.

Lucas shrugs. “Just someone who doesn’t like parties. Sometimes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if i don’t update in 2 weeks you’re allowed to yell at me. 
> 
> also tell me how you guys like the formatting of the French? are you alright with it in the text or would you rather have translations in the end?


End file.
